Harry Potter and the Spirit of Christmas
by i'll-be-a-knight
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione receive a Christmas party invitation from an unlikely source.
1. The Invitation

Harry stared in disbelief at the letter in his hand. It had come in through the Muggle post yesterday but lay sealed on the kitchen table until he opened it a few minutes ago, having gotten tired of Kreacher's constant reminders to stop ignoring the growing stack of correspondence.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy requests the pleasure of Mr. Harry James Potter's presence in celebrating the holiday season with a Christmas party on Saturday._ Listed below was the address, along with the time of the event. The invitation was written in a fancy script in luminous gold ink. If Harry hadn't known any better, he would have guessed that this was one of George Weasley's pranks. But he doubted that George would go through the trouble of making a fake invitation and using the Muggle post just to fool him. What would be the point of pretending to be Draco Malfoy?

Harry was currently enjoying a relatively peaceful and quiet life after the Second Wizarding War. 12 Grimmauld Place was now his permanent residence and he wisely opted not to divulge the location to anyone else outside the Secret-Keepers so that he can have some semblance of privacy. He didn't have the heart to replace Hedwig with a new owl and thought it would be a better idea to have his mail delivered in the Muggle fashion by keeping a deposit box at a nearby post office, adding another thin layer of seclusion between him and the rest of the wizarding world. Apparently The Boy Who Lived (Again) is a hot commodity and he fervently wished that wasn't the case. He didn't mind overly much when strangers came up to him on the street, thanking and congratulating him, but it happened so often that it had grown tiresome and embarrassing. He wished he could tell them all that the best way to express their gratitude was to live without fear, be happy, appreciate their families and loved ones and to never forget the people who had sacrificed their lives for the greater good. He didn't need to be showered with gifts or praise. The only thing The Boy Who Lived really wanted was to live.

Fortunately for him and his sanity, there were other people who saw him simply as Harry. The Weasleys were family to him and they treated him as one of their own, granting him no special privileges or favors. Just the other night, he'd received a stinging lecture from Mrs. Weasley for putting her through the wringer with unnecessary worry when he'd failed to let her know that he would be late for dinner. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister of Magic, would never let him get away with slacking off at work or missing deadlines and meetings.

He had to shoulder the responsibility of being the hero, but thank Merlin he had Ron and Hermione to help carry the burden. They were the only ones who could fully understand what he was going through for they were experiencing the same thing themselves, albeit only to a certain degree. Instant fame flustered Hermione, but Ron dealt with it surprisingly well, almost as if he was meant to be in the spotlight and had just been biding his time.

"What would Master Harry like for breakfast?" Kreacher asked as he shuffled his way over, snapping Harry's mind back to the present. The elf was sporting a clean, fussily embroidered towel and a hat that Harry himself had knitted in gratitude for his service. Though Kreacher had been given his freedom, he continued to serve Harry willingly. At Hermione's insistence, Kreacher received monthly wages and had one day a week off. Not knowing what to do with his free time, however, the house-elf happily continued to dote on his master. The way Harry saw it, he had no right to tell a free elf what to do, so he would only half-heartedly object out of habit and because Hermione would never let him hear the end of it if he didn't try to enforce these new conditions.

He glanced at the watch Mr. and Mrs. Weasley gave him four years ago when he had come of age. "Actually, I need to get going," he told the house-elf, putting the invitation back inside the envelope before tucking the parchment away in his pocket. He knew just the people he needed to see about Malfoy's party. "I'll see you later for dinner."

Five minutes later, Harry was knocking on the door of Hermione's small flat, knowing that she was most likely awake by now. Sure enough, after just mere seconds the door flew open.

"Harry!" she exclaimed in surprise. "Good morning. What are you doing here?"

"Good morning, Hermione. I wanted to talk to you about something," he replied.

"Come in." She stepped aside so he could enter. Crookshanks greeted Harry by rubbing his body against his legs, purring loudly. He bent down to scratch a spot behind the cat's ears.

"I was just making breakfast. You'll have some, won't you?"

The grumbling in his stomach answered her question. As he always did whenever he was at Hermione's, he stared in admiration at the home she had made for herself. She'd managed to combine both Muggle and magical worlds in a way that he could never accomplish. Her cauldron was hanging on a hook among pots and pans of stainless steel, Muggle newspapers were stacked alongside editions of _The Daily Prophet_, and a computer was next to a cabinet that housed the Pensieve the Weasleys had given her upon graduating from Hogwarts. He longed for Grimmauld Place to be like her flat, not wishing to completely abandon his Muggle heritage that came courtesy of his mother. He'd have to ask for her help in seamlessly blending those two sides.

"I stopped by the joke shop on my way here," he told her as he joined her in her tiny kitchen. He noticed that she was making breakfast the Muggle way by relying on electronic appliances rather than with the aid of her wand. "But it was still closed. Would you happen to know where Ron is?"

Harry then heard a familiar voice say, "Hermione, you need to get some soap that isn't so flowery. I like it well enough on you, but I'd rather not have people asking me why I smell like a meadow." Ron emerged from the hallway, his flaming red hair wet from the shower. It was quite easy to deduce why no one answered at the shop. Harry and Ron grinned upon seeing each other.

"So what do you say when they ask?" Harry wanted to know. "Do you tell them that you fancy frolicking in a field of posies?"

"Oh, he's just exaggerating," Hermione replied, swatting Ron's hand away when he tried to pilfer a piece of bacon. "No one ever asks. As I always tell him when he gripes about it, he can use his own soap in his own shower and sleep in his own bed."

"Now where would the fun be in that?" Ron asked her. He whispered something in her ear that made her stifle a smile and clear her throat. He deftly swiped a strip of bacon while she was briefly distracted. "So what brings you 'round, Harry?"

"He said he wants to talk to us," Hermione answered as she glared at him and the stolen bacon. Crookshanks batted a paw at Ron's ankle in a show of retribution on his owner's behalf.

Ron, who had been grinning in response to his small triumph, was now frowning as he leaned on the counter. "Is something wrong?"

"Well, not _wrong_, exactly," Harry replied, "but it's definitely unsettling."

Once the food was ready, they all sat down at the table. It felt so blessedly normal having breakfast with them, almost as if Harry was back to his Hogwarts days in the Great Hall. The only difference was the way his two best friends acted very much like a couple, with Ron preparing Hermione's tea the way she liked it while she heaped jam on the toast on his plate. Seeing them made Harry miss Ginny even more so; it felt like a sharp pain, much like how his scar used to hurt him.

"We got a card from Ginny," Hermione said, as if she had sensed where his thoughts were directed. "She says the tryouts for the Harpies are going well."

"Of course she'll make the team," Ron remarked confidently, his voice filled with pride. "They won't find anyone better."

"You're right about that," Harry agreed, though it truly didn't matter to him whether or not she made the team as long as he could see her and spend time with her again.

"So what did you want to talk to us about?" Hermione asked.

"I received this invitation yesterday and I hadn't read it until this morning." He pulled the envelope from his pocket and showed it them.

"I got one too, a few days ago." Hermione got up and retrieved her invitation.

Ron shrugged. "So both of you got invited to a party. Big deal." It was said without bitterness, having long gotten over his exclusion to such events. Harry and Hermione both worked for the Ministry now, therefore it was understandable that they would be invited to parties together.

"I'd say it's a big deal, considering it's from Malfoy."

Ron gaped at Harry. "Draco Malfoy?" He snickered as he looked over Hermione's shoulder at the invitation. "Now that I'm looking it, of course it has to be from Malfoy. Only pompous gits would use fancy gold ink! Who does he think he is, Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Harry joined him in laughing. "Even Lockhart didn't use gold ink in his autographs, I ought to know. 'Mr. Draco Malfoy requests the pleasure of Mr. Harry James Potter's presence...' No one else talks like that!"

"Not unless you're a pompous git!"

Hermione scowled at them. "Honestly, you two. What's wrong with addressing an invitation that way? That's the proper way to do it. And I think the gold ink is a rather nice touch, if you ask me."

"How does he even know my middle name?"

"Who doesn't know your middle name, Harry? At any rate, I'm sure he didn't only invite the two of us. You probably got one too, Ron."

"You reckon? I'll go check." He Disapparated to the joke shop in Diagon Alley and returned almost instantly, carrying the invitation with him. "Blimey, you're right. What could he possibly want?"

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it? He wants people to come to his party," Hermione replied.

Ron shook his head as he sat back down. "That's what he wants you to think. This is Malfoy we're talking about, Hermione!"

Harry nodded in appreciation at Ron's reluctance to take the invitation at face value. "Exactly. I don't think this is an innocent Christmas party."

"And I suppose you came up with that by reading between the lines? It's just a party, it's pretty straightforward."

"The only thing that is straightforward is how Malfoy hates us all. I refuse to believe he just woke up one day and thought, 'Oh, I wonder what my old Gryffindor buddies are up to?'" Ron remarked.

"You don't think it's a nice gesture?"

Harry and Ron stared at her as if she'd sprouted another head on the spot. "Are you mental?" Ron asked. "It's about as nice a gesture as You-Know-Who asking us over for tea and biscuits!"

She rolled her eyes. "You know very well that Voldemort is dead-"

"That's not his point," Harry interrupted. "He's right. We can't trust Malfoy, no matter how nice his invitations look."

"Well, there's only one way to find out what Malfoy is really up to, isn't there?"

Harry nodded. "Right. We'll go out one night-"

"And break into his house to get some answers," Ron finished. He and Harry grinned at each other, appreciating the way their minds often operated on the same wavelength.

"_Or_," Hermione said pointedly, "we can simply go to the party to find out his true motives."

"You've gone mad, Hermione," Harry told her. "Do you want to walk right into a trap?"

"How do you know for certain that it's a trap?"

"And how do you know that it isn't?" Ron retorted.

"Both of you are completely overreacting," she fumed, frustrated with them for refusing to see things her way. "I cooked, so you two can clean up." She rose from her chair and stormed off to her room, annoyed that they had ganged up on her once again. Crookshanks trailed after her, loyal as always.

Harry and Ron carried the dirty dishes into the sink. Ron made sure that she was out of earshot before he said, "_We're_ overreacting? She's not reacting enough, in my opinion. It's Malfoy!" He looked at the jumble of plates and pans waiting to be washed.

"Mind if we use magic on these? I have to open the shop in a few minutes and I haven't quite mastered the Muggle way of cleaning up." He glanced warily at the Muggle appliance Hermione had called a dishwasher, not at all eager to use it again after creating a small flood of water and suds just a few days ago, much to her chagrin and amusement.

"Not at all." Harry took out his wand and together they set the kitchen to rights in mere moments. After checking once more that Hermione wasn't nearby, he told Ron, "I need to know what the hell Malfoy is up to."

"Same here. I wouldn't put it past him to do something sneaky. So when are we going to break into Malfoy Manor?"

Harry smiled and took the question in stride, as if Ron had just asked about the weather. "I haven't got a plan yet. But give me a couple of days and I'll come up with something."


	2. The Deception

The following weekend, Harry invited Ron over to discuss their game plan for confronting Malfoy. With Hermione now working at the Ministry and Ron putting in extra time at the joke shop because of the holiday, they had been unable to meet until now to plot their approach. Thoughts of the party had distracted him all week, causing him to fall behind on his work. Malfoy simply had to have an ulterior motive, no matter what Hermione said. Harry wouldn't put it past him to remain under the radar for years as he perfected his plan for revenge.

"Something smells great," Ron remarked as he removed his rucksack and dumped it on the living room floor.

"I told Kreacher you were coming, so he made all of your favorite foods."

The house-elf scuttled over to where they stood and bowed deeply. "Breakfast is ready, young masters."

"Bless you, Kreacher." Ron gratefully patted him on the head. "You really know how to spoil us."

They sat at the table and enthusiastically began to eat. "You're sure Hermione doesn't know you're here?"

"Positive, mate. I left before she woke up." It had been bloody difficult to leave Hermione's warm bed and even harder to pry himself away from her without jarring her awake. "So how do you want to handle this Malfoy situation?"

"I didn't exactly come up with a plan," Harry said apologetically. "I was so caught up in thinking about how the party had to be a trap that I forgot to come up with a strategy."

Ron shrugged. "That's fine. We've broken into Gringotts, Harry. I'm sure we can handle Malfoy. Besides, it's not like we aren't prepared."

He retrieved his rucksack and began unpacking it. It was full of Dark Detectors and Defense Objects from the shop. Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, Sneakoscopes, and Decoy Detonators were now scattered on the table along with gloves, hats, and cloaks that were enchanted with a Shield Charm. "It doesn't hurt to have added protection," he said, nodding towards the articles of clothing.

"Brilliant. We mustn't forget this, of course." Harry added his invisibility cloak to the pile. "Plan or no plan, I think we're ready, don't you?"

"I'd say so. It's about damn time that Malfoy finally gets what's coming to him. Let's do it tonight."

"Why don't you come by after you close up the shop? You can have dinner here, unless Hermione is expecting you."

"She is, but it's nothing I can't get out of," he said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "I'll come up with an excuse."

"Make sure it's a good one, preferably not involving me. We don't want her suspecting anything. The last thing we need is-"

Harry was interrupted by a loud knock at the door. "Who could that be?" he wondered. "And at this early hour?"

"You're not expecting anybody?" Ron asked, the look in his eyes was wary as he pulled out his wand.

"No, hardly anyone knows I live here." They cautiously approached the door, wands ready. Harry opened the door and a knot immediately formed at the pit of his stomach. "Hermione."

Hermione took one look at their guilty expressions and quickly surmised that she had caught them doing either something that they most likely aren't supposed to be doing or something that she wasn't supposed to know about. She had a feeling that it was both. She looked from Harry to Ron, who received the brunt of her steely glare.

"I _knew_ you were up to something when you snuck out without saying goodbye!"

It was a safe bet that if Harry had somehow miraculously acquired the skills to practice Legilimency, he would hear Ron conjuring up a storm of profanities.

"I didn't want to wake you?" Ron said feebly.

"Oh, please." Hermione barged inside as Harry and Ron quickly retreated, knowing better than to underestimate her ire. It is certainly a blessing to be friends with the brightest witch of their age, but needless to say, the circumstances would be dire if she was crossed.

"How about some breakfast?" Harry suggested with forced cheer.

She glanced at the bounty of food on the table and grew even more irritated with the pair of them. "Isn't this supposed to be Kreacher's day off?"

"Er, he and I never really discussed which days-"

She caught sight of their equipment. "Just what is going on here?" She answered her own question almost immediately. "This has something to do with Malfoy."

Harry silently swore at Hermione's uncanny ability to connect the dots before he could even form a lie. "And what if it does?" he retorted defensively. "We have every right to find out what he's up to."

"It's simple. He is throwing a Christmas party. Do you two plan on spying on everyone who's in the holiday spirit?"

"Only when it's Malfoy. He wouldn't know what holiday spirit is if it kicked him in the face."

"Aren't you setting a fine example then, with your hatred and prejudice?"

"It's not prejudice when he has proven time and again that he can't be trusted. Why are you so convinced that he has nothing else up his sleeve?" Harry demanded.

"Because so much time has passed since we were all in school together. People make stupid mistakes when they're younger; we've all done it. Besides, do you know how ridiculous this all looks?" She gestured at the objects on the table. "You two won't even fit together under the cloak anymore. This party is a gesture of goodwill," she said assertively. "Why can't you see that?"

Harry gawked at her, eyes wide behind his glasses, unable to believe what he was hearing. How could she sympathize with someone who had been a thorn in their collective sides for years? He glanced at Ron, who had been intently studying Hermione since she launched into her tirade. "You know, you can step in at any time and offer your opinion, which, by the way, is aligned with mine," he told Hermione.

"Getting you to see reason is like talking to a bloody brick wall. Actually, I would probably have better luck with the wall! Are you two so incredibly close-minded that you can't even consider the possibility that Draco is trying to set things right?"

Harry made a sound that showed his skepticism. "With a Christmas party? Like that will make up for everything he and his family have done."

"It's a start, at least. It takes a bit of courage to reach out to the people who despise you. I think it's admirable."

Her utter defense of their enemy finally provoked Ron into breaking his silence. "You seem pretty damn sure that we're wrong about Malfoy."

"Just like you're convinced that _I'm_ wrong!"

Ron shook his head. "That's different. Like Harry said, Malfoy has shown over and over again that we can't trust him. There's something you're not telling us, Hermione. Something happened that makes you believe that Malfoy is now a decent person. It's not even about the party anymore, is it? It was never about that at all. You're sticking up for him, talking about him as if you actually know for a fact that he's changed. And that's because you _do_ know," he plowed on before either of them could interject, "since you helped him put this party together."

Harry started to tell Ron that he had gone too far with the accusation, but the stunned look on Hermione's face stopped him. He realized that much like how she had correctly interpreted Ron's behavior earlier, Ron could read her like an open book. "So it's true, then."

"Yes, I helped arrange the party." Hermione tried not to sound guilty, but the disapproval written clearly on their faces made it difficult. Still, she wasn't going to back down and was prepared to defend her decision.

It explained why she had gotten so defensive over the invitations. The gold ink and overly proper wording that he and Ron ridiculed was probably her idea. "How long have you and Malfoy been friends?" Harry inquired.

"I wouldn't call it that, exactly. He contacted me not long ago and I only met him once. It's more like we reached an understanding, but I think we will eventually come to friendlier terms. You could too-"

"Not bloody likely!" Harry declared. He was appalled that she would even make such a suggestion. Be friends with Malfoy? Was she daft? To say that he was surprised by this newfound information would have been a massive understatement. Hermione was the rational one in their group, her levelheadedness sometimes annoyingly inflexible. But right now she was making as little sense as one of Luna Lovegood's conspiracy theories.

"Don't you have any faith me?" she asked.

"Yes, but-"

"So why don't we all just go to the party and you'll see-"

"And see that it's a trap?" Harry interrupted incredulously. Honestly, what was she thinking? Had Malfoy somehow brainwashed her into thinking that he was someone worthy of her trust?

"It's not a trap!" Fed up with Harry, Hermione glowered at Ron, whose steady silence completely unnerved her. She knew that he was livid and the fact that he wasn't shouting or showing emotion of any kind only proved to her just how furious he was with her. "Aren't you going to say anything? You're not going to lecture me about fraternizing with the enemy or accuse Draco of using me to get to you two?" she demanded, recalling their argument about Viktor Krum during their fourth year.

Ignoring her barbs, Ron said in a voice that shook with barely restrained fury, "You put yourself in danger by meeting him alone. You didn't even tell me and Harry; what if Malfoy had tried something? We would've had no idea that you were in trouble."

"Don't be foolish-"

"If that's how little you value your safety, then I'll stop caring, too." He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "If you can forget that he's called you names and that you were tortured under his own roof, then-"

"I didn't forget," she interrupted heatedly. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

Harry thought it was best to alleviate the growing tension before their argument grew out of hand. "Hermione, he's right," he said carefully.

"Of course you'd take his side!" she exclaimed spitefully.

"This isn't about whose side I'm on. It's about Malfoy and the threat he poses. A leopard can't change its spots."

Hermione looked at Ron. "We have living proof right here that it can, metaphorically speaking."

Ron stared at her with an incredulous expression on his face. "That's different!" he objected, offended that she would compare him to their school rival. "I grew up."

"Yes, people grow up. People change. We all have, maybe even more so because of the war. Why can't it be the same for Draco? Why do you think I gave him a chance? He reminded me of you."

That seemed to be the last straw for Ron. "You know what, if he reminds you of me so much, then go be with him. Have a nice time at the party." He Disapparated before Harry or Hermione could say another word.

With a sigh, Harry retrieved one of the linen napkins off the table and handed it to her only to discover that she wasn't crying, though her back was stick straight and her hands were balled into fists. It was obvious that she was exerting a great amount of effort not to break down in front of him.

"Please don't hate me, Harry."

"I don't, and neither does Ron." Although frustrated with her, he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "But you have to understand where we're coming from. Hermione, he is our enemy. He always has been and as far as I'm concerned, he always will be."

"The only enemy we had was Voldemort and he is long gone. But as long as there is hate and animosity in this world, he might as well still be here."


	3. The Party

During the following weeks, Hermione's words played over and over in Harry's mind, much to his annoyance. He hated doubting himself, especially when he was questioning a belief that he'd clung to for years. Loathing Draco Malfoy was just the natural order of things, like the sun rising in the east, the sky being blue, and the grass being green. He never gave a second thought as to why Malfoy was still his enemy, even after their days at Hogwarts were over and they were now leading even more separate lives.

His plans to invade Malfoy's residence with Ron were scrapped, needless to say. Ron wanted nothing to do with Malfoy, not even to prove Hermione wrong. It was highly unusual, since normally he would jump at the chance to do just that because Hermione being wrong about something was such a rare occurrence. Instead, he had been in a right foul mood since finding out she went behind their backs to meet with Malfoy and it was a testament to their friendship (and his patience) that Harry could endure Ron's constant scowling and grumbling. Harry didn't dare get in the middle of their argument, even though Hermione, looking absolutely dismal, asked him almost daily if Ron had changed his mind about giving her the silent treatment. As much as he wanted to put them out of their misery (and himself too, since splitting his time between them was far too reminiscent of their school days), he knew better than to get involved in their relationship.

"_The only enemy we had was Voldemort and he is long gone. But as long as there is hate and animosity in this world, he might as well still be here."_ Bloody hell, why must Hermione always make sense? In the span of one conversation, she caused him to re-evaluate his attitude. Why exactly did he continue to hate Malfoy? Was it simply because old habits refused to die? Was he clinging stubbornly to a childhood grudge? The questions plagued him and made him restless.

Hoping for answers, Harry began to do a little research. After looking through years of old issues of The Daily Prophet, he noticed that while Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy's names continued to sporadically appear in the publication, their son's name was conspicuously absent. Again Harry thought that his rival was biding his time before he made his move, but the more he thought about it, the sillier the theory sounded. What could Malfoy possibly have up his sleeve that would take years to execute? What would he gain from exacting revenge? The Malfoys were now social outcasts, going from being a respected and feared family to a topic for ridicule; undoubtedly they were being served some much-needed humility. Was that enough motivation for Draco Malfoy to spend years scheming and plotting until the perfect time came to carry out the plan? Harry was no longer convinced that it was.

It was one thing to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt; however, it was another matter entirely to trust him, especially when hours of research led to no real conclusions about his family. If there was even the slightest chance that Draco Malfoy was now a reformed young man, why would he invite his childhood enemies to his home when his parents clearly loathed the three of them?

While Harry wouldn't take his word for it, he could at least believe Hermione when she says that the event at Malfoy Manor was simply a party and not a trap waiting to be sprung. Having arrived very reluctantly at this conclusion, Harry was now getting ready for the event. Besides, his curiosity was too great and he knew he wouldn't be satisfied with simply staying at home.

"Well, Kreacher, what do you think?" He held up two ties, one red and the other green. "Which one?"

The house-elf merely gave him a blank stare. "Kreacher doesn't know of such matters, sir."

"Of course you don't. I think we are both out of our element here." He chose one at random and began to knot the green tie around his neck. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he muttered at his reflection in the mirror. "Hermione better be right." A few minutes later Harry put on his coat over his dress robes and, after checking the address on the invitation again, Disapparated to his destination.

Upon arriving, he was surprised to discover that he wasn't at Malfoy Manor. The new dwelling was still large, but it was a house rather than a giant estate. Perhaps the family was forced to downsize after all these years, getting rid of most signs of extravagance and status. Did Lucius Malfoy even have a job nowadays? He tried to recall if he'd come across such information during his research.

"He lives alone."

Hermione's voice jolted Harry out of his thoughts. He'd been too busy staring at the house to notice she was there. "Blimey, Hermione!"

"Sorry. I got here only a few minutes ago. I thought I'd wait to see if you'd arrive."

"I'm here because I want you to believe it when I tell you that I trust you."

She reached over and squeezed his hand. "I appreciate that, Harry."

"This still doesn't feel right to me."

"It'll be fine. Is Ron going to be here?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Hermione, I..." Truthfully, Harry had no idea what Ron was going to do, but it was safe to say that he probably wouldn't attend, given his reaction upon discovering Hermione's deception. But Harry couldn't bear to dishearten her, especially not at this time of year. "Look, he didn't exactly say that wasn't going to come." That was the best he could do without lying to her.

"That's nice of you to put it that way." The fleeting smile she gave him was strained. "Honestly, I don't know why you two underestimate me. I ought to be insulted. Do you really think that I would blindly trust Draco Malfoy after everything he's done to us? When he reached out to me through the owl post, I didn't rush to do his bidding, I'll have you know!"

"Um-"

"After years of knowing me and being your best friend, did you actually believe that I wouldn't put in the time to do a bit of research before deciding whether I should meet with him or not?"

"I-"

"Well, I did, Harry Potter! And it wasn't until I learned that Draco had practically cut ties with his parents that I made up my mind to see him, in a public place, no less, to insure that he wouldn't _dare_ to do anything to me. As if he could," she added animatedly, jabbing her finger into Harry's chest as if to drive her point home. "I'd love to see him try!"

It would seem that he was the unfortunate recipient of a tirade that was most likely supposed to be directed at Ron. His best friend was going to owe him one after Harry had just taken a bullet for him, figuratively speaking. "All right! I'm sorry. But put the shoe on the other foot, Hermione. I care about you a lot. You're one of the most important people in my life. I know you're more than capable of taking care of yourself, but I can't help but feel protective and defensive when you hid the fact that you helped Malfoy plan this whole thing, not to mention that you met with him alone." He paused before adding, "I imagine it's the same for Ron, except magnified by about a million."

Hermione's rebuttal was at the tip of her tongue but it went unsaid as his words sank in and she realized that he was right. "I don't know how to explain it, but there's something different about Malfoy that made me decide to help him. I may have researched his family before giving him my answer, but if I were to be truly honest with myself, I think I would have listened to what he had to say regardless of what I found, regardless of our past. I knew you and Ron wouldn't understand, so I didn't say anything. I'm sorry for that, but not for my choice. I wanted to give him a chance, Harry. And it looks like you want to do that too, since you're here."

They both lapsed into silence as they continued to hang around on the grounds, neither one wanting to suggest they go inside to join the party, not without Ron with them. They both knew that doing so would damage their friendship, perhaps irreparably.

Suddenly they heard a faint popping noise and Luna appeared before them. "Oh, hello," she greeted in her usual dreamy tone.

"Luna!" Harry and Hermione exclaimed in unison. "You're invited too?" Hermione added. When Harry gave her a quizzical look, she elaborated, "I didn't know who was on the guest list, other than you, me, and Ron. If you weren't convinced before, then this should show you that he's not setting up a trap for us!"

"Naturally," Luna replied to Hermione's earlier question, as if receiving an invitation from Draco Malfoy was a regular occurrence. "I wouldn't miss a holiday party." She looked behind them at Malfoy's house; it didn't escape her notice that she hadn't Apparated to the manor where she had once been held hostage. "Hmm. I wonder if it looks nice on the inside, too. I love Christmastime, don't you?" she asked them in a quick change of topics. "Except for the Nargles, of course. Remember to be careful when you're under the mistletoe."

"Er, right," Harry replied. He didn't know which was more absurd, the thought of Malfoy hanging mistletoe in his house or the Lovegoods' continued belief in a creature that many people are convinced is imaginary. "Thanks for the tip, Luna."

She smiled serenely. "You're quite welcome." She looked at Hermione. "He'll be here, you'll see."

"You...but how do you know? You've talked to Ron?" Hermione demanded.

Before Luna could respond, they heard the popping noise again and as she predicted, Ron appeared, looking tense and slightly uncomfortable.

"I'll see you all inside." She gave Ron an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder before prancing away.

Harry grinned, feeling much better about being there now that the three of them were together. "You made it."

"Yeah, well...so did you." He looked at Hermione. "Hi." At the moment all she could manage was a shaky smile, for her relief at his presence was so great that it overcame her.

"What do you have there?" Harry gestured at the bottle Ron was holding.

"Just some firewhiskey." His eyes never left Hermione's as he said, "You told me before about a Muggle custom when guests bring food or drinks to a party as a gift. I figured it was the least I could do after Malfoy invited me to his house." He shrugged. "Besides, if he insults you or says anything bad about house-elves, I can always hit him with it."

Hermione burst into laughter as she threw her arms around him. "Ron, when I said Malfoy reminded me of you, I didn't mean-I only meant that I could see the good in him and...I'm so sorry for-"

"It's Christmas, Hermione. I know we have a lot to talk about, but right now I just don't want to fight anymore," he said as he held her tightly. "I've missed you." Her head was resting on his shoulder and he felt her nodding in agreement.

"Right, well, now that everything is settled, we should probably go in," Harry said. His earlier curiosity had now given way to tension. It was hard to shake off the uneasy feeling that he always associated with Malfoy, even though he now knew that the party wasn't an elaborate ruse.

He and Ron followed Hermione down the stone path that led to an ornate front entrance. From behind the closed doors, they could hear music playing faintly. Stepping inside, they saw that the entranceway was decorated with lights and wreaths, while festive candles shed a glowing path to a large room filled with former Hogwarts students milling about and chattering amongst each other. There was a massive table laden with food and another table of equal size next to it with sparkling goblets and a variety of drinks. The Weird Sisters were performing on a stage set up in the front of the room.

"Draco has outdone himself," Hermione remarked. The party, by all appearances, looked like a success.

"He actually got the Weird Sisters," Ron said, reluctantly impressed.

"I can't believe it," Harry said over the noise. "Everyone is here! Look, there's Dean and Seamus, and the Patil twins-"

"And Susan Bones, Terry Boot..." Hermione added as she craned her neck to look around.

"There's Cho, Harry," Ron pointed out, smirking.

Harry's mind briefly flashed back to his horrible Valentine's Day date with Cho and he quickly suppressed a shudder. "I see she's still friends with Marietta."

"Oh, look! It's Neville with Hannah Abbott. Don't they look happy together?" Hermione sigh was filled with satisfaction as she gazed adoringly at them.

"Leave it to Luna to go up to the Slytherins first," Ron said in an affectionate tone. Sure enough, Luna was gesturing animatedly as she spoke to a group who had segregated themselves from the rest of the party. Harry noticed the mistletoe hanging above the gang of Slytherins and predicted that Luna was once again on the topic of Nargles. Based on the puzzled looks on the other students' faces, his assumption was most likely correct.

Harry was astonished that his former schoolmates were actually here, even as the evidence stared him straight in the face. He scanned the room in search of their host, but could find no sign of the pale-haired young man who had taunted him so much during their school days. He continued to observe the other guests and noticed that they were all having a good time. Were they all convinced that Malfoy had turned a new leaf? Had they really forgiven him for everything he's done to them? Did time really heal all wounds? They seemed to be here in the true spirit of Christmas, without holding any grudges. Perhaps it was also time for him to adopt the same attitude. He needed to find Malfoy and clear the air once and for all.

Harry started to ask Ron to go with him, but when he saw him and Hermione having what appeared to be an intimate and earnest conversation, he decided against it. They were looking at each other as if they were the only people in the room. A herd of Hippogriffs probably couldn't drag them apart. Leaving the two of them alone to patch things up, he ventured off, spotting a pair of glass doors that led to a courtyard. Getting there was a struggle, for he was stopped every few feet by friends and people he knew, offering holiday greetings and making small conversation. It felt like an eternity, but he finally made it outside.

His eyes were immediately drawn to a white peacock wandering the grounds, gracefully dipping its neck to peck at the cold ground. Harry cautiously approached it and shook his head. "Leave it to Malfoy to own such a pretentious animal."

"These birds are probably the only pleasurable part of my childhood."

Harry whipped around at the sound of Malfoy's voice. He was standing just a few feet away, holding what looked to be a bag of bread crumbs. There were two more birds behind him, feeding on the bits of bread. The sight of him evoked old feelings of resentment. "I find that hard to believe," he remarked sardonically.

Malfoy assumed a defensive stance and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Oh yeah? Why is that, Potter?"

"Because you don't know how it feels like to actually want something."

"Is that so? I might've been privileged, but that didn't mean that I wasn't lacking."

"Of course you'd be a greedy git," Harry sneered. "What could you possibly lack? You have everything!"

"Like what? Money? Anyone can make money if they want to; a fat lot that does me."

"It bought you this, didn't it?" He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the expanse that was Malfoy's home. "Nice house you've got here. How much did it cost your dad and mum to get this for you?"

"It cost them nothing," Malfoy countered through gritted teeth. "However, it cost _me_ a fortune. But it was worth it, because it meant that it was truly my own, something I actually earned."

Harry stared at him, stunned. "You mean-"

"I've cut off all ties with them, at least until they can understand..."

He narrowed his eyes. "Understand what?"

"That I can't live their life anymore. That I need to make my own choices. Simply knowing that I _can_ make a choice rather than following an order..."

"Do you expect me to feel sorry for you?" Harry demanded even as he experienced a twinge of sympathy.

"I don't expect you to feel anything, Potter!" Malfoy exclaimed as he angrily scattered more food for the birds that were demanding his attention. Snowflakes had begun to fall and covered the ground, but the peacocks had no trouble discerning the crumbs among the vast whiteness. "I sure as hell don't want your pity, so you can take that and shove it."

Harry remained silent after that, his eyes fixed on the peacocks eating the crumbs as if they were the most fascinating creatures he had ever seen. He may have lost both of his parents, his godfather, and other people that are dear to him, but he wouldn't want Malfoy's pity either. "I'm not here to fight with you," he stated after a moment. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I guess old habits are hard to break."

"Then why are you here?"

"Hermione said you were throwing a party. I thought I'd see it for myself."

Malfoy scoffed, but the sound was without malice. "You thought I was planning something sinister, didn't you? Typical Gryffindor, always jumping to conclusions. I have much more important things to worry about than you and your friends, Potter." He cleared his throat and said, with some difficulty, "Besides, you saved my life. Do you really think that's how I would repay you?"

Harry couldn't believe that he'd forgotten about that. Now it was too easy to recall how he had rescued Malfoy from the flames of Fiendfyre that had engulfed the Room of Requirement. "You saved mine, too. You knew it was me all along when the Snatchers brought us to your house."

Malfoy shrugged restlessly, as if Harry's show of appreciation didn't sit comfortably on his shoulders. "I'm trying to put the past behind me. Perhaps a party isn't the most brilliant idea, but I didn't know how else to proceed. I thought maybe if I got Granger's help in arranging this whole thing..."

It was very odd to hear Malfoy using Hermione's name rather than calling her Mudblood. "It's hard to go wrong with Hermione."

"I doubt Weasley is happy about all this."

"He's not, but Ron will come around. He always does."

"I'm not expecting us to be best friends, Potter. But maybe it's time for a truce."

Harry thought again of what Hermione had said before. What was the point of holding on to these feelings of animosity when he fought so hard for peace? If Malfoy can make the first attempt at reconciliation by throwing this party, the least he can do is meet him halfway. He stuck out his hand. "Merry Christmas, Draco."

Malfoy returned the gesture, relief evident on his face. "Merry Christmas, Harry."


End file.
